Death, Poetry and All the Living Things
by illman
Summary: She has been reading poetry to him for four years. All because she had found her first family in a man who hadn't opened his eyes in four years. MacStella
1. Chapter 1

_Title: Death, Poetry and All the Living Things_

_Author: Illman_

_Category: het, backstory, H/C_

_Beta: Unbetaed for the moment. English is my third language, so feel free to point out where I goofed up._

_Date: 04/20/2006_

_Spoilers: seasons one and two are game_

_Warnings: violence, reference to domestic violence, drug use _

_Disclaimer: It's their universe, not mine. Poems are copyrighted by their respective authors._

_Summary: She has been reading poetry to him for four years. All because she had found her first family in a man who hadn't opened his eyes in four years._

_Author's Notes: _

_oOo_

_Chapter I_

_Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?_

_1. The Boy, October 3rd 2009_

Jonathan Fredrick Hollenbeck, called Johnny, was six years old, had blond curls and grey eyes. When he'd vanished from a neighbourhood playground shortly before ten this morning, he had only left behind his broken glasses.

The police had sat up command at the Hollenbeck's city home; they were expecting a ransom demand. The Hollenbeck's were in the diamond mining business in South Africa, but had sent their two children to the United States four years ago to live with the mother's sister.

Stella Bonasera measured the last of the twenty-six shoe impression moulds taken from the sand box and the park surrounding the playground. Six-teen of the shoe impressions were small, too small to be from the shoes of an adult.

She checked her watch. After almost four years, she didn't need to look at a watch anymore to know, it was a habit. She wasn't going to be able to finish analysing each shoe print down to determine from what model it had come from. There simply wasn't enough time.

They always covered for her. Danny, Lindsay and Sheldon. Leaving at 5 p.m. on the spot every day for the last four years hadn't earned her the favour of their new supervisor, Paula Manning. Her career had suffered for her personal life, something, if she had told only five years ago, she wouldn't have thought possible.

She wouldn't let a case suffer for her commitment, but she had set her priorities since then in her heart and in her life.

Stella put the photographs taken of the prints at the scene back into the file, tagged the moulds on the table and finished her notes.

She was just about to leave the room when she heard someone approach from behind. Turning around, she saw Paula Manning, a clipboard pressed to her chest, come towards her.

"Stella." Paula paused, tucking a strand of hair behind the ear. "How are you coming along?"

"A lot of the impressions didn't come out well, but the recent rain helped us a lot. We have shoe profiles of ten adults from the park, but there is really nothing to go from there." Stella explained.

"That's unfortunate." Paula frowned. "It's been seven hours and we haven't got anything. Nothing on the background check popped. We're going back to the park and we are widening the search radius. Someone has to have seen something. The commissioner assigned extra personnel to the case, so Flack is going to go door to door in the neighbourhood. We're going back to every trash can, pond and rest room in and around Roland Park."

Stella nodded. "All right, I'm not through identifying the shoe prints yet, but..."

Paula raised a hand to stop her. "I know you make a point of getting off at five, Stella and frankly I don't care why. Today, I need everyone for as long as it takes to find Johnny Hollenbeck."

"It's fine. I wasn't..." Paula always made Stella feel like she needed to defend herself.

"Just call the guy." Paula told her. "I'll see you at Roland Park."

The door slapped shut behind her.

2. _Snow falling softly, December 1976_

Stella sat at the last desk by the window. That way she could look out the window when Ms. Elmer wasn't looking.

Snow was falling outside, in slow, thick flakes, white against the lead sky. Stella wrapped her arms around herself, trying to pull her light blue knitted vest closer. It was her favourite piece of clothing. The vest was almost two sizes too large and its colour was faded to light blue steel. But the vest was hand-made and the fine knots spoke of it. It was the luck of the draw really what clothes you got out of the heap.

"Stella, stop dreaming." Ms. Elmer tipped her on the shoulder. Stella turned from the window and looked up. There was a frown on Elise Elmer's round face, but she never stayed sour for long.

"You haven't drawn anything on your card yet. Don't you want to give it to a friend for Christmas?" Ms Elmer asked.

Stella nodded. Half the class lived at the home; of course Ms Elmer knew that she had no parents at home.

Stella took the green crayon and listlessly started to draw a Christmas tree. They had one at the home every year, for as long as she could remember. The tree stood in the entrance hall and always arrived in the first week of December. Stella liked its smell.

3. _John Donne's first book, Christmas Eve 1984 _

The food was the best thing about Christmas, after that, maybe the big tree in the hall.

Stella was wearing her 'best dress'. Dark blue velvet, slightly faded, from a clothes' donation. The last of the food was eaten and the boys on dish duty were clearing the room.

Stella got up from her chair. She was full, tired and really wanted some time alone. Christmas Carols were blaring from the radio in the corner of the dining room and most of the children were chattering, as for once talking at the table was allowed.

Stella was already half way up the stairs when someone snagged her by the sleeve.

"I didn't want to give this to you before, we everyone was around." Ariel, a plump girl with beautiful dark red hair, handed her a wrapped present.

"Oh, thanks." Stella smiled. "But I didn't get you anything. I feel bad about that now. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry." Ariel pulled her into a brief hug. "Merry Christmas, Stella." Ariel looked down.

"Can I unwrap?"

Ariel nodded. Stella carefully removed the plain blue wrapping, trying not to tear it up any more. It had been used before, but she didn't care. She had just gotten her first real Christmas present. Not just the anonymous chocolate that every kid at the home got for Christmas.

Stella pulled a book from the paper. It wasn't new; it had gone through many hands. 'The Poetry of John Donne'

"It's poetry." Ariel pointed out when Stella didn't say anything.

"That's perfect. Where did you get it?" Stella had to ask even if it was not the polite thing to do.

"The used book store across from your school. I saved lunch money." Ariel said. "I really miss Christmas." She sat down on the step.

Stella joined her. "I don't remember celebrating Christmas with my family."

"Been here that long?"

"Fourteen years." Stella replied.

"Never knew your folks then?" Ariel asked.

"No, I came to Greenwood at two months old. No idea what happened to my parents. Wallace says I have to be eighteen to get a look into my file." Stella sighed.

"Nothing much in mine. My mom took off." Ariel shrugged.

Stella didn't know what to say. She didn't understand how Ariel's mother could just have left her daughter, but many of the kids came from parents who had taken drugs, had taken off or were in prison.

"My mom was kinda screwed up, I hardly ever saw her at home, but I can't imagine not knowing anyone of my family." Ariel pondered.

"I just want to get to know my family."

4. _Torrential, October 3rd 2009_

Stella had just climbed into her car when the down pour started. It was like the sky at literally opened up. In two minutes, all the evidence that might still be in Roland Park would be washed away completely. Maybe Paula and the others were already there, Stella had not exactly hurried to leave the lab. By the time she'd get downtown, the scene would be gone.

She leaned her head down on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Sleep was tempting her to give in, but she couldn't, not yet. Her family was waiting for her. At least that was what she used to think when she was tired, when her muscles ached from sitting in a chair too long. All because she had found her first family in a man that hadn't opened his eyes in four years.

Stella pulled out of the crime lab parking lot. She had a family to come home to. While she was making her way out of the City, she dialled Danny's number. Paula was going to expect her at the park, not that it mattered with the rain now.

Danny answered the phone immediately, indicating that he was still at work.

"Messer."

"Danny, it's Stella. I'm headed out for the day." Stella told him.

"Yeah, I guessed so. Paula chased us to the park, but then the rain washed everything away. Hawks is still there on the trash patrol." She could hear the smile in Danny's voice.

"So tell Paula that I'm headed home when she gets around to why I have left the assembly line." Stella said, stopping in front of a red light.

"It's not that bad." Danny laughed. "I'll cover for you with Paula."

"You don't have too; just tell her to call me if something breaks on the case." Stella sighed.

"I will. Give Mac my regards. Bye." Danny hung up.

Stella shut her phone and concentrated on the traffic.

_5. The Office, March 1985_

Mrs Wallace's office was furnished in dark woods, but the once classy and expensive pieces had seen better times, they were chipped at the edges and the lacquer was splintering off.

"You asked me here, Mrs Wallace." Stella stood straight in front of the head of the group home.

"Yes. Please sit down." Mrs Wallace's voice was oddly soft and her demeanour much friendlier then what she usually displayed.

Stella sat down, unsure what to expect.

"When was the last time that you saw Ariel? Miss Biel told me that you were friends."

Stella shuddered internally at her use of the past tense.

"I saw her two days ago, at breakfast. That was the last time. What's happened?" Stella asked.

"It looks like she has run away. Again. She hasn't been in school or here at Greenwood. I finally had to call the police." Mrs Wallace said tiredly. "I have to ask you, did Ariel see any boys from outside?"

"No, she wasn't." Stella replied honestly. Ariel had problems with discipline, but Stella didn't know of any boy interests.

"I didn't expect an honest answer anyways. I don't suppose you know about her drinking either."

Stella shook her head. She really hadn't known. She had never seen Ariel drunk. People coming back drunk or high weren't a seldom sight, but not Ariel. There was obviously a lot that Stella didn't know.

_6. John Donne's second book, August 2000_

The billboard sized sign over the shop front was faded; the black lettering was peeling off in places, just like Stella remembered it.

The glass door was stained from exhaust fumes, cigarette smoke and dust from decades. Stella stepped up the smooth worn stoops and pushed open the door.

It was impossible to tell how large the store room was really, it was maze of shelves. Stepping into the store was like taking a trip into the past.

The air smelled of old paper and coffee, a scent that reminded her of libraries and calm quiet hours. Stella couldn't help but smile. She had spent hours in the 'Blank Pages', whenever a class had been cancelled; she had thought refuge in the small store near her school. She hardly ever had had any money to buy a book, but just looking at the worn volumes, a colourful mix of textbooks, thick, dusty novels and children's books with creased edges. The textbooks had brought her particular pleasure, thumbing through their pages, made her hungry for the knowledge in them.

Stella took the wooden stairs up to the second floor, following her memory, one hand wrapped around the copy of the book Ariel had given her for Christmas.

_7. Poetry in the dark, October 2009_

Stella always wondered why the halls were so quiet. The whole building exuded an aura of calm. In the beginning she hadn't been able to see it. She had walked by blind the deep blue mosaic tiles adorning the white walls, the mix of modern openness and old high ceilings and the beautiful park lying behind the building.

Stella walked down the hallway of the fifth floor, the corridor as familiar to her as her own home. She nodded to the blond man passing her. She saw him every night. He had a daughter in room 532. Stella opened the door of room 517.

The room was nice, Stella had to admit. Warm colours instead of stark white. Two comfortable chairs, a wooden drawer chest and off-white, open curtains. But as always Stella's eyes settled on the man in the bed. The wounds were long healed, but she could still see the scars where the bullet had pierced skin. The scars would always mark him as a victim.

Stella settled down and took Mac's hand, like she did every time she came to see him. Touching him made him seem more present. Everything was a well established routine between the two of them.

"Today was a long day. We caught a bad one. A boy disappeared from Roland Park in the middle of the day and nobody saw or heard anything. Nobody ever does in this city. I hate it when it's kids." Stella rubbed a hand over her face. It wasn't late, but she felt as if she hadn't slept for days.

"We haven't been able to contact the family of the missing boy. They have a business in South Africa as far as we know. Big money so Flack is thinking there will be a ransom demand soon. I don't want to hope for that, but since we have no lead, it would at least give us a new direction on the case."

"You know that feeling, when a case is going cold from the beginning? That's one of them. Paula is working us like slaves, but there is nothing to find in that park. She is going to fire me one of those days and I can't really blame her. You'd probably like her as a CSI, she is dedicated and I think she knows every crime statistic the FBI ever published." Stella smiled. She slipped off her shoes and pulled her feet under her. From her bag, she pulled the worn book and began to read.

_Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay? _

_Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste, _

_I run to death, and death meets me as fast,_

_And all my pleasures are like yesterday; _

_I dare not move my dim eyes any way, _

_Despair behind, and death before doth cast _

_Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste _

_By sin in it, which it t'wards hell doth weigh; _

_Only thou art above, and when towards thee _

_By thy leave I can look, I rise again; _

_But our old subtle foe so tempteth me, _

_That not one hour my self I can sustain; _

_Thy Grace may wing me to prevent his art, _

_And thou like Adamant draw mine iron heart._

The End of Part 1


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter II_

_They shall lie down alike in the dust_

_and the worms shall cover them._

_Job 21:26_

_8. Wait for me, October 2009_

Stella's beeper vibrated against her hip, the soft sound audible in the quiet room. Without releasing Mac's hand, she reached for the offending item to read the display. It was Danny, requesting her to call him back immediately. She bit her lip and dropped her head. Her job was calling and she couldn't shirk from the obligation, as lives depended on her and she had to do right by them.

She leaned close to the bed. "I have to go now. Work is calling. I'm sorry, but I can't ignore this. I can't run on work alone anymore, like I used too, but I can't live without it either. I'll be back as soon as I can; you just have to wait for me." Stella squeezed his hand a last time, before she put her shoes back on and grabbed her bag and coat.

_9. Fishing Men, March 2006_

The river was weaving its way through the city like a giant band of steel, the water a dirty mixture of blue and grey, flowing high and wild after the heavy rains in recent weeks.

A uniformed officer offered Stella a hand as she carefully climbed down the slope to the waterline, kit in one hand, and the other one extended to keep her balance. It was early in the morning and the sun was just coming up on a clouded sky. Spring seemed to be far off that morning as Stella was wrapped in her winter jacket, more sliding than walking towards her colleagues standing down at the shore.

Mac and Hawks were both standing over the body-du-jour when she reached them. The characteristic smell of flesh rotting in water reached her before she saw what had been fished out of the river. Suicides, homicides, accidents - with a depressing regularity, a corpse would float to the surface or be caught be by some unsuspecting fisher.

"God. Is that what I think it is?" Stella stared at the mostly skeletonized body, a few shreds of discoloured flesh still clinging to the bones and covered by dirt from the riverbed. Approximately from the knees downwards the body seemed to have been encased in a block of concrete.

"There is no limit to the human imagination, Stella," Mac commented, busy examining the concrete block around the lower legs of the victim.

"Old style. The first one I have seen," Hawkes said. "The heavy flooding dragged up all kinds of things, including our friend here. From the looks of it, he has been in the water for at least eight to fourteen weeks."

"He was alive when he was thrown in," Mac said. "The concrete wasn't poured around the bones. It was poured around the body when the flesh was still there." Mac indicated the shape of the holes in the concrete block.

"I'd say classic mob execution, but it seems inefficient when you can just shoot someone instead," Stella thought out loud, looking over the body, "because I can't see a bullet hole."

"You are right. At least from what I have seen now, there is none. He probably drowned alive, dragged down by the cement," Hawks explained.

"It's psychological. Put one man in cement shoes and make him disappear forever, everyone else gets the message - take care or you will disappear too."

_10. Swimming by Moonlight, October 2009_

The air had been washed clean by the rain. Right now, the only thing Stella could smell was fresh earth and plants as she climbed out of her car at the edge of Roland Park. Judging by the commotion at the park's entrance, the team had dug up something significant despite the heavy rain. Working her way through the mass of people, Stella spotted several police vehicles, a van from the fire department and the transporter of the canine unit of the NYPD.

Finally inside the park's fence, Stella walked over to the first familiar face she saw, Detective Donovan from the Crimes Against Children Task Force. The middle-aged detective was soaking wet and not pleased about it.

"Detective Donovan, what's the entire circus here about?" Stella asked her, knowing that she would get a no-nonsense answer.

"One of your guys found boys' clothes in a pond. Says they are fresh, but we don't know if they are from the missing boy. Everyone is turning the park upside down for the second time now," Donovan answered. "There was something about interviewing witnesses in the radio call, but I don't see any witnesses here, aside from the press vampires." Donovan had been out in the rain too long.

"Well, I'll find my team then," Stella said lightly and headed off into the park. She was feeling out of touch lately and this was just another one of those occasions where she didn't really seem needed. By the time she arrived, the work was already done.

She walked down the gravel path, not sure where she was actually going. Roland Park wasn't a very big park, but still big enough to get lost. She passed a metal sculpture, which seemed familiar from somewhere. The path rose and a minute later, Stella stood in a parking lot for the parks department's vehicles, and obviously an after-hours hangout, judging by beer bottles and cigarette butts littered around.

Damn, she muttered. She was really off her game. It just wasn't working lately, her mind wasn't on the job anymore and afterwards she felt guilty about it. It had been almost four years and deep down she knew that her own downfall had begun at the same time. But the difference was that she could save herself. She couldn't save him and the weight of knowing that was slowly crushing her.

_11. That's how some people say good-bye, August 2006_

The artificial lighting never made it possible to tell the time inside the lab. It was a never-ending over-bright day, filled with never-ending work, Stella thought as she walked back to the main lab, the sheets with the DNA results in hand. Even DNA, the key to modern forensic science, had failed to bring light into her case: a series of three robberies, the last resulting in attempted murder of the owner when he had returned early from a business trip. But there were no DNA matches on all three suspects. Back to square one. Another case was already demanding her attention—an assault in a downtown bar. In a few hours, the robbery would be pushed to the far end of the bench. Low priority. Unless new evidence happened to come to light, she wouldn't pursue the matter any further.

"Got a minute?"

Stella looked up. Mac was standing in the corridor, dressed to leave.

"Sure, my case was just reduced to zero." Stella couldn't hide her disappointment. She knew that Mac didn't believe in the unsolvable case. He thought the doers always left evidence of their presence behind. Everyone knew about the collection of files on his desk

"NYPD put an interesting call through to me today. A woman called in information about an old case we worked together—a John Doe who washed up on the East River last March," Mac said.

"I recall that case. Cement shoes. Went cold from day one," Stella recalled.

"Jackson did a face reconstruction; the papers ran it and it went on-line. A few tips came in, nothing panned out," Mac said, refreshing her memory.

Stella realised that he had to have taken the time to check them out himself after the case had gone cold. Part of her admired his dedication; part of her didn't understand how Mac could be satisfied with living for his job. She knew she never would be capable of the same.

"How do you know this tip is solid?" she asked.

"The caller refused to give her name, but she identified our John Doe as Octavian Radu, a Romanian immigrant. He has only been in the country for the last ten years. We know from the heavy metals in his bones that John Doe grew up in the region. Organised Crime was investigating Radu in connection with an extortion scheme when he suddenly disappeared on New Year's Eve last year."

Stella nodded. "Timeframe fits. Who was Radu working for?"

"Allegedly for Darien Markov, who owned an import-export business in the city. He disappeared around the same time as Radu, along with everything that was in his warehouse in the Bronx."

"Looks like we finally got a lead. Have you called Detective White?" Stella asked.

"First thing tomorrow morning," Mac replied. "Don't stay here all night."

Before Stella had a chance to reply, he was gone. For a moment, she had seen something in his eyes that had reminded her of a very different Mac she hadn't seen in a long time. She was glad for him.

_12. Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, October 2009_

The cold, humid air had settled over her in the moonless night. Light from the busy city gleamed in the distance, faintly illuminating the autumn night. Stella was leaning against the wall of the wooden parks department shed, and took a deep breath of fresh air. It was getting harder to see him and she knew the reason why. Maybe it was a trick of her oversensitive mind, but she could see his features soften unnaturally as he drifted further and further away from the world, a world that she lived in every day.

The ringing of her cell phone disturbed the night. Stella opened it to answer.

"Bonasera."

"Where the hell are you?" A male voice came over the line. Stella heard concern tinged with a hint of anger.

"Danny? Is that you?" she asked, pretty sure that she recognised the voice.

"Of course it's me. Everyone else is already back at the lab. I couldn't find you, so I thought I'd call and check on you."

"Oh, sorry, I sort of got lost." Even to her it sounded stupid. "What did you find?"

"Not much. Some soaked boys' clothes in a pond, but no blood, no tears, no nothing. Probably no DNA either. But we'll test them anyways." He paused. "Stella, are you all right?"

"Yeah, it's just been a long day," Stella replied evasively.

"You know if you want to talk, I'm not scared of a three a.m. phone call."

"I appreciate it, Danny. You know that. Bye." Stella shut her phone and pocketed it. If only things were as easy as she had claimed and a good night's sleep could fix her.

Stella shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and made her way across the parking lot back to the path down the park. She felt the urge to make up for her visit cut short. Even as Mac was fading from Stella's world, he had become more present in her life. With every day she had visited him, first at the hospital, and then at the long-term care facility, her ties to him strengthened. It had never been a question for her that she would be there for him after what had happened. The question of making this commitment to a man who would never know about it had never occurred to her. It was what you did for family

Stella was passing the metal sculpture when a chilly drizzle broke from the dark sky. Her hair and clothes were already wet from the heavy rain earlier in the evening, and she didn't relish being drenched in cold water once again.

As she glanced at the dark sky, in a futile effort to scan the clouds for any signs of worsening rain in the future, she realised what she had just seen at the parking lot. Between the various bottles of alcoholic beverages, cigarette butts and general trash all around the lot, she hadn't taken conscious notice, but the rain had jogged her memory. At the parks department shed, there had been a cigarette butt that wasn't wet.

She turned around into the direction of the parking lot. In rapid strides, she walked back, stopping short of the open ground. Three vehicles from the parks department were in the lot, and there were two more empty spaces and to their right was the wooden shed. Detecting no movement or presence, Stella walked across the lawn to the back of the shed, avoiding the parking lot, just in case there was someone watching after all.

She listened into the silence, but above the rain and distant sounds of the big city, she could hear no sound from inside. Not quite ready to dismiss her gut feelings, she went around front.

More cigarette butts and beer bottles were up front. Stella didn't need a flashlight to see that the simple lock of the door had been brutally forced open.

_13. Blood in the Sky, August 2006_

The sky was faintly in the remnants of a summer sunset when Stella walked out onto the parking lot. The parked cars still radiated a fraction of the day's heat, but the air had started to cool down to a more bearable temperature. Stella's thoughts were occupied with thoughts of the dire state of her fridge as she weaved her way through the maze of parked vehicles.

The familiar odour was mingled together with exhaust fumes, wet grass and motor oil, but she recognized the smell of gunpowder and blood immediately. She instinctively reached for her weapon and ducked behind the nearest car. When she was sure that she could hear no movement, she slowly moved out from behind the car, systematically checking the area. Calling for back-up would risk drawing the shooter's attention if he was still here.

Mac was on the ground, crumpled over onto his left side. The small pool of blood at the left of his head was still the wet coloured crimson of fresh blood.

Long practised skills and frantic emotions pushed her into immediate action, and she was on her knees next to him a split second later.

"Mac! Mac! Come on, answer me!" Stella called his name, hoping against hope that Mac was all right. But the blood clinging to the left side of his face, the blood accumulating on the ground and the clammy skin under her searching fingers were speaking another language.

"Thank God." She felt a faint throb under her fingers, slow but holding steady. Maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked. But all the blood on his face and around his head...it was sticking to her fingers from where she had touched him, but she didn't even notice.

The body can lose a maximum of two quarts of blood. The pool of blood on the pavement seemed to be expanding rapidly. Stella knew she had to do something about the bleeding. For a moment she hesitated. She couldn't see where exactly the injury was; all she could see was a lot of blood. What if he had been hit in the neck? She didn't want to risk moving him. At the worst, she'd risk paralyzing him for life. If he survived.

With jittery hands, she reached for the cell phone in her pocket, her eyes never leaving the man on the ground.

The End of Part 2


End file.
